


My Genius, My Angel, My Friend

by p_tchaikovsky



Series: Works of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky [2]
Category: Classical Music RPF
Genre: 19th Century, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst without a happy ending, Arguing, Awkward Sexual Situations, Boarding School, Classical Music, Classical References, Complicated Relationships, Consent, Declarations Of Love, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Drinking Games, Drunk Sex, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Fantasizing, First Crush, First Love, First Meetings, First Time, Forbidden Love, Friendship, Gay Male Character, Gay Panic, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Love at First Sight, Love/Hate, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Manipulation, Masturbation, Music, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Panic Attacks, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Public Humiliation, RPF, Rimming, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smoking, Underage Masturbation, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:00:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25190521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_tchaikovsky/pseuds/p_tchaikovsky
Summary: When 16-year-old senior Pyotr Tchaikovsky sees 14-year-old  junior Sergey Kireyev he falls immediately and passionately in love with him. Tchaikovsky forms a friendship with Kireyev but still wants more. While Tchaikovsky is trying to come to terms with his erotic and romantic attractions to the boy, Kireyev is trying to figure out how he feels about this much older admirer trying to pursue him. Along the way, Tchaikovsky forms new and different relationships but he never lets that get in the way of his beloved Kireyev.THIS FIC IS ON HOLD WHILE I REWRITE
Relationships: Sergey Kireyev/Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, Vladimir Gerard/Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky
Series: Works of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783258
Kudos: 18





	1. Dawn: No. 6 of Six Duets Op. 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter title I will choose a different Tchaikovsky song or duet and this one just so happens to be Dawn from Tchaikovsky's Six Duets Op. 46. I chose this piece because, in the beginning, it has kind of a sweet sound and soft melody which to me shows Tchaikovsky's pure love for Kiryev when he first sees him. Towards the end of the song, it grows louder and darker which parallels when Tchaikovsky is very conflicted. By the very end, it dies down like when Tchaikovsky is finally succumbing to sleep.
> 
> Here's more information about Dawn and the Six Duets:  
> http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/Six_Duets,_Op._46 
> 
> and here's a link to the piece:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I2Uzh-DCpQI

The first time I saw Sergey Kireyev was during church at the Imperial School of Jurisprudence. I was immediately taken aback; he was the most beautiful person I had ever laid my eyes on. 

“Who is that?” I asked softly and nudged my good friend Aleksey Apukhtin whom I would lovingly refer to as Lyolya. 

“That’s Sergey Kireyev; he’s a first-year student here.” I bit my lip and let out a sigh as I looked at the young boy, sitting down in one of the pews. I grinned as I saw him laughing at something one of his friends had said. “Pyotr whatever you’re thinking, stop thinking it!” Aleksey whispered harshly. I tore my gaze away from him and back to my friend. 

“I can’t help it,” I mumbled defeatedly. During the entire mass, all I could do was think about him, look at him. It was quite unusual due to the fact that I am usually very attentive during service. I had never been so taken with someone until now. 

“You realize you haven’t stopped looking at him this whole time, right?” Aleksey chuckled a bit. I blushed madly and punched his arm playfully. 

“Shut up, Apukhtin!” I said bashfully and looked away. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the chapel. 

“Come on, no more of this nonsense we need to get back to our next class!” The students all filed into the classroom, and I plopped down next to Aleksey. 

“I love him,” I declared softly to my best friend. He looked absolutely astonished. 

“What!? You don’t even know him; how could you possibly love him??” He questioned. 

“Come on, Lyolya, didn’t you see him..” I sighed happily, thinking of the young boy’s beautiful face. 

“Snap out of it Pyotr, you know you can’t be thinking of things like that,” he looked at me with sadness in his eyes. 

“I know I can’t, but I don’t care, I can’t stop these feelings,” I looked away, pain jabbing at my heart. 

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing Pyotr” he raised his eyebrow looking at me with a knowing glance. The teacher then cleared his throat, getting our attention. 

“Boys, if you could kindly stop talking, I would finally be able to start my lesson” He looked down at us, gritting his teeth, trying to keep his composure. 

“Sorry, Sir,” We said in unison, trying not to laugh. 

“Don’t think we’re not going to talk about this after, Pyotr!” He leaned over and whispered into my ear. 

“Haha, ok, Lyolya,” the teacher glared at us, and Aleksey immediately jerked away from me and pulled out his pencil, ready to take notes on the lecture. While the teacher started talking about who knows what, I drifted into a trance. 

The entire class I didn’t stop thinking about Sergey, I wondered when I would see him again when I would be able to talk to him and introduce myself. As the teacher droned on and on, I daydreamed about what it would be like to be with Sergey. I was suddenly snapped out of my dreams when the teacher called out my name. 

“Pyotr!” He said harshly. 

“Sorry, sir, what is it?” My heart was beating a mile per minute. I should’ve been listening,  _ god, I’m so stupid! _ I reprimanded myself. 

“I asked you a question Mr. Tchaikovsky,” he simply stated and shot me a disappointed look. 

“I’m sorry, sir, could you repeat the question, sir” I internally cringed, and Aleksey sniggered next to me as I whispered, “oh god.” He tsked and continued;

“I asked what year the Romanov dynasty came into power. You would know that if you were listening, Mr. Tchaikovsky.” 

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. 

“What was that?” He raised an eyebrow, and a smug smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. There was a long moment of silence as I wracked through my mind trying to find the answer. I had to say something. Everyone had their eyes on me; I would be a laughing stock if I couldn’t answer. Aleksey poked at my leg, I looked at him, and he gestured to his paper with his eyes. I looked down, and the answer was written right there in front of me. For a second, I was kind of just in a daze, not really knowing what to do. 

“Pyotr!” He whispered urgently, and for a second, I didn’t understand. 

“Oh! Right! Um, 1613, sir” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, just glad this was over. 

“Good job, but next time you shouldn’t rely on Mr. Apukhtin here for the answer.” several students around the room snickered, and I visibly shrunk in my seat. The teacher paused for a second, looking thoroughly satisfied by my mortification, and then continued with the lesson. 

The rest of the day dragged on, every class feeling like it was double the time it really was. After supper, I went with my friends to drop off letters. Once we were done, we walked back to the dorms to get ready for a night in the city. Every Friday night after dinner, students could go into the city to walk around, grab drinks, or even shop. Going out was the perfect distraction to get my mind off the angelic boy that I saw today. The laughing, drinking, talking, and even the cold, harsh St. Petersburg air was like a getaway from my mind. I could be in the moment, carefree, and not held back from the anxieties of life.

I was absolutely relieved when I could finally flop onto my bed. I kicked off my shoes and lazily shucked off my clothes, not caring enough to get into my sleeping clothes. Aleksey then came up to me, wrapped in a blanket, and hopped onto my bed, laughing when he landed face-first into the mattress. He lifted his head up and looked at me, a goofy grin on his face. 

“You know we never talked about it, Pyotr,” He said with his brows knitted, there was a sudden seriousness he didn’t have before. I laughed slightly and looked into his eyes, hoping that he would not see how apprehension I was. 

“I was hoping you’d forget about that,” not wanting to have this conversation, not wanting to be back to reality after a night of jovial fun. 

“Nope, I definitely didn’t forget!” He said cheerfully, trying to sound positive, knowing I was dreading the conversation ahead.

“Well, say what you wanted to say,” I gestured with my hand, just wanting this to be over with. 

“I just…” He started trying to figure out what to say. “Pyotr, you know this could end badly. As you say, you’re in love with him, but you’ve got to know there is a chance he won’t feel the same way. You know what people think about people like us. Besides, you barely know him. You don’t know what he could be like.” Usually, when people have serious conversations like these, people get awkward and tend to look away, but not Aleksey Apukhtin. He looks straight into the eyes of the person he is talking to. I don't think he notices, but his confidence and integrity are unnerving. It’s almost as if he can stare into my soul and see precisely what I’m thinking and feeling.

“I know, I know, but…” I choked and started, and my eyes became watery. “I am so sick of having to worry about this. I just want to be able to love without shame or guilt. I wish I didn’t always have to hide it.” 

“I know you do, but you can’t change it. You need to be cautious, don’t be impulsive. I know you’re hurting, but you’ve got to use your head,” although he was right, it still hurt. I wanted comfort, not a lecture. 

“Fuck Aleksey, stop telling me things I already know.” I hissed out, my tears flowing freely now. Aleksey looked shocked. He knew I only swore when I was really upset. He looked a little guilty and ripped his gaze away from me. I knew exactly what he would say; it was inevitable. He would tell the truth like he always did. I knew it would hurt, Aleksey knew it too but continued anyway. 

“I’m sorry ok I just can’t see you get hurt again. You get so attached to people so quickly, and when you lose them, you’re absolutely destroyed. You let your emotions drive your every move, and I’m just telling you to have some common sense. Think with your head, not your heart. If you put your heart out on your sleeve for this boy, it might lead to your destruction. I can’t let you ruin yourself over a boy you don’t even know,” anger fumed up inside of me, bubbling over as I let out a strangled cry. I wiped away my tears, trying not to let him see me in such a vulnerable state. He was right, of course, but it still hurt. 

“Get out! Leave me alone!” I lashed out in defense, trying not to seem weak to the young man in front of me. 

“Petya…” He started, sorrow in his eyes, looking almost desperate. “I know you’re hurting, so let me help,” he pleaded with urgency. My eyes widened, I was in shock; he rarely called me Petya. He only ever did so when his emotions were running high. I don’t think he could help it; I knew he was just trying to help. 

“Go,” I sneered. He looked away as if he was trying to hold back tears. He took a deep, shaky breath trying to compose himself. 

“Fine, but you know I’m right. Don’t act like I don’t know you Pyotr.” he gave me a pained look, picked himself up off the bed, and walked away. My insides ached, my lungs felt like they were on fire, and my breathing was coming out faster than usual. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, or as if someone was pushing on my chest. I curled up in the fetal position and pushed my knees against my chest, trying to relieve the pain in my heart. I tried to pull my thoughts away from the agonizing truth, trying hopelessly to shift to a happier place and time. I closed my eyes, and Sergey appeared. His dark hair, porcelain skin, his plump lips a pinkish red. When I saw him today, his school uniform hid his figure, but I could imagine what he looked like underneath. In my mind, he had a thin frame, flat stomach, slender legs, and fragile, thin ankles.

Arousal started to pool deep in my groin, and I let out a guttural groan as my cock lurched forward in my undergarments. I imagined him lying there naked before me, squirming as I pulled at his peaked pink nipples. His small leaking cock, jerking up off of his stomach. I could see his ribs as he inhaled sharply, moaning breathily as pleasure rippled through his small body. I shuddered violently, and my cock twitched happily in response to my fantasy. I grabbed onto it, squeezing hard, trying to relieve some of the sudden pressure, but it did nothing to quench my need for release. I unfurled from the fetal position and sat there hunched over as shock waves of pleasure crashed over me. 

My cock was restrained against my undergarments, and as I shoved them down quickly, my dick bobbed up and down. The cold air on my cock sent shivers down my spine, and I grabbed on to my shaft vigorously jerking it. I groaned softly, the hand on my cock feeling so incredibly good. I imagined Sergey there at my mercy, his hands tied above his head, looking up at me with hungry pleading eyes. I took my thumb and traced the underside of my cock, small moans escaping from my lips with each agonizingly good stroke. I didn’t even care if anyone heard me at this point; the only thing that mattered was the pleasure. Then I realized just what I was doing, fantasizing over a boy, a boy who was two years younger than me. I was repulsed with myself, god, I hated myself. 

“Stop it,” I whispered, desperately trying to will away my rock-hard erection and the intense desire to come. I gripped onto myself harder, moving my hand faster. “Stop it,” I repeated with utter defeat, I couldn’t stop.  _ Why can’t I stop?  _ I screamed hopelessly in my head. Tears streamed down my face, my shame was like a punch to the gut, and disgust shook me to my very core.

Nevertheless, I kept going, getting pushed closer and closer to the edge. A tremor came over me, and I was deeply disturbed by the fact that I couldn’t tell if it was from disgust or pleasure. My mind drifted back to Sergey and his perfect body I created in my head. He was thrusting up into the air, just trying to get some friction. “Oh fuck,” I was right there, right on the edge just about to tip over. Sergey came spurts of come shooting from his hard little cock, flushed a deep red. That’s what finally pushed me over. I screwed my eyes shut, my balls drew up, and it felt like my whole world went still. Shame then hit me like a train. I felt as if I was deer in headlights. But by then, it was too late, and I jerked myself fervently through my ruined orgasm. “Sergey,” I gasped and released into my hand. My vision went white as a blinding electric combination of pleasure and pain exploded inside of me. 

I let go of my spent cock and smeared my spunk-covered hand onto my flat-toned stomach, not wanting it to get on my bed. This action caused me to cringe slightly, but to my surprise, I was incredibly turned on. My cock showed some interest, but I knew after what had just happened, this momentary pleasure wouldn’t turn into anything more than that; momentary pleasure. My lungs were working overtime, expanding and contracting so harshly it hurt. I sat there heavily breathing, trying to calm my thoughts, which were all over the place. After a few minutes, my breathing finally steadied, and I came back down from the euphoric torture my orgasm had caused. “Oh god, what have I just done,” I cried out softly. I collapsed onto my back and then curled up in a ball. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who helped edit this I owe y'all a lot! Constructive criticism is always welcome and if anyone has any questions about the fic or even Tchaikovsky you can always leave a comment or message me on my Tumblr @p-tchaikovsky!
> 
> Disclaimer: Although most of what I write is fiction and made up there are some events that have actually taken place in Tchaikovsky's life. A lot of research goes into my writing and although I try to remain as accurate as possible I sometimes slip up
> 
> Link to Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MKonHP8gdk 
> 
> more information on Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend:  
> http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/My_Genius,_My_Angel,_My_Friend


	2. Nature and Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter title I will choose a different Tchaikovsky song or duet and this one just so happens to be Nature and Love. This one was really hard but I chose it because it has a very light and airy feel to it but also this kind of minor undertone which to me is like how Aleksey and Tchaikovsky were being playful with each other but it turned into a fight. In the end, the song builds which to me is like when Tchaikovsky meets Kireyev for the first time.
> 
> Here's more information on the song:  
> http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/Nature_and_Love
> 
> and here's a link to the piece:   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tgFmmy5Hwlk

“Pyotr,” a voice called out faintly. The same voice called out again, louder this time. “Pyotr!” said the voice harshly. I was being shaken, and I jolted awake. 

“What?” I asked. I was so discombobulated and didn’t know exactly where I was. My vision was blurred, and I rubbed my eyes. I looked up, and Aleksey was standing over me.  _ Ah, I’m in the dorms.  _

“We’re going to be late for breakfast! God, I thought you were already awake, but I come in and see you curled up in a ball sound asleep!” he said exasperatedly. He was hastily going through my drawers and tossing me my clothes. I sat up and stretched. I was exhausted; I had been tossing and turning all night. Aleksey turned back towards me, looked down, and cringed slightly. 

“Oh Christ, I don’t want to see that Pyotr!” He was absolutely bewildered and turned away quickly. I could see a blush creep up on the back of his neck and ears. 

“What? Oh!” I looked down and saw my cock resting there. I realized my undergarments were still pushed down from last night. I tucked myself back in and smirked slightly. “Like you hadn’t seen it before, Apukhtin,” I heartily laughed. He turned back around, his face even redder than I realized. 

“It caught me off guard!” He said defensively and rubbed his face as if he could just get rid of his blush by swiping it off. I grabbed the trousers he had thrown onto my bed and pulled my legs through them, one at a time. “Pyotr what is on your stom-oh…” his voice died out, and he had an almost grim look. I looked down at my stomach, and I was taken over by overwhelming panic. I quickly tried to cover up the dried come from last night, but it was too late. Realization had dawned on his face, and he gasped. “Oh no, Pyotr, you didn’t!” 

“I did,” I whispered and looked away, biting my lip. I felt the same guilt and shame I did last night but five times stronger. It wasn’t just me alone with my thoughts, Aleksey was standing here before me, judging me. I had never felt more mortified in my whole life. My cheeks felt like they were burning, the embarrassment causing me to flush a deep red. 

“He’s just a boy!” He practically shouted. He raked a hand through his hair, looking stressed, I knew he was thinking about some way to fix everything.

“I know,” I whispered again. I focused on doing the buttons on my shirt while biting my lip, trying desperately not to cry. Aleksey looked like he was about to launch into another lecture,  _ oh god, here it comes.  _ I thought dejectedly. I couldn’t stop the tears at this point,  _ god why am I such a cry baby, such a failure, such a monster.  _ Aleksey saw me crying, and he sighed. 

“What do you want me to do, Pyotr?” He asked sincerely. I sniffled and wiped my tears on the cuff of my jacket I had just put on. 

“Can we please just go to breakfast,” I begged, just wanting to get on with my day, to stop feeling like this. I could not bear Aleksey’s heated gaze filled with disappointment and judgment. 

“Ok,” he simply responded. The whole way to the dining hall I was sniffling, trying to compose myself, I didn’t want everyone to see I had just been crying. I was looking down, watching my feet hit the stone floor, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Aleksey turned to look at me. He took my hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. I didn’t reply. I ripped my hand away from his and picked up my pace, swiftly walking across the dining hall to my seat. I couldn’t believe he had the audacity to lecture me and then proceed to take pity on me whenever he pleases. I didn’t want to be his pathetic loser friend he always had to fix, I didn’t need fixing, and I definitely did not need his pity. I would show him I’m strong and capable of carrying my own without him. I was furious. I sat down, and soon he plopped down right next to me. 

Most of breakfast I spent talking amongst other friends, but he stayed silent, pushing his food around on his plate, not really eating it. When it was almost about time to go, he pushed his thigh up against mine and put his hand on my leg. I looked over to him, shocked, and he looked up at me with these almost pleading eyes. My anger immediately melted away.  _ Oh, fuck you, Aleksey, and your irresistible charms.  _ I smiled and mouthed, I forgive you. He looked away and bit his lip as a blush crept back up his neck just as it did this morning. “Open your hand,” he said so quietly I could barely hear him over the roar of voices in the dining hall. I looked at him questionably but nonetheless opened my hand. He placed a small slip of paper in my palm, letting his fingers linger there for a little longer than necessary. He took one last quick glance towards me and got up to go to class. After he was out of sight, I looked down at the note in front of me.  _ We can come up with a plan together. Meet me at the practice room after classes are over.  _ I openly smiled at the note and shoved it into my pocket, scurrying to the first class of the day. 

After all my classes were over, I was so happy. The whole day I was thinking about what Aleksey was going to say to me in the practice room and what plan he said we could come up with together. The bell rang deep and loud, and I wanted to run out of class, but the teacher stopped me. I was the last one to pack up, and I slung my bag over my shoulder. Right as I ran out the door, the teacher grabbed my arm and turned me around. 

“Mr. Tchaikovsky, please wait,” he asked calmly. 

“Is there something wrong, Sir?” I questioned hesitantly. 

“No, no of course not,” he paused for a second “I just wanted to ask you to send something to the junior French Literature teacher. I know you were very fond of him and the class, so I thought, what better person to send this note down?” He chuckled a bit. I sighed with relief. 

“Oh yes, sir, of course!” I said quickly and ran out of the room. I practically sprinted to the practice room and swung open the door to see Aleksey sitting at a small desk writing. He looked up at me, seeming a bit startled but smiled when he realized it was me. I entered the room, shut the door, and walked over to Aleksey. I looked over his shoulder, reading his work. 

“What are you writing?” I asked, still trying to catch my breath. “Is it for school?” He rolled his eyes, scoffing slightly, and punched my arm playfully. 

“What do you think?” He asked, laughing softly. “Why are you breathing so heavy anyway?” I bit my lip and smiled. 

“I ran here.” He started laughing harder at the obvious statement. “Plus… I’ve got a plan.” 

“Oh, do tell!” He turned to face me, looking up at me with an anticipatory grin. 

“Well, I have this!” I dramatically whipped out the note my Russian literature had given me. He raised a brow. 

“What is it?” 

“A note,” 

“Well, obviously, but what does it say?” 

“I’m not really sure, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that it’s to my old French Literature teacher!!!” Aleksey looked utterly confused. 

“And..?” He leaned forward in his seat. 

“It’s the perfect excuse to see Sergey!!!” I announced happily. Aleksey leaped up out of his seat, a huge smile on his face.

“Oh my god! You, my friend, are a bloody genius!” He exclaimed ecstatically. 

“I do have my moments, don't I?” I joked. I felt like I was on top of the world. 

“Well, what are we waiting for? Recreation hours have started, and we’re allowed to go to the junior hall!” He grabbed my hand and happily walked to the hall. When we got there, everyone was looking at us in awe. I was looking around, and when I turned back around, I bumped into someone. Their books fell all over the ground  _ wow great work Pyotr _ I rolled my eyes at myself, how could I be so clumsy?

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” The boy in front of me scoffed exasperatedly and knelt to the ground, picking up his books. “Here, let me help you!” I said desperately, feeling awful for bumping into him. As I was bending down to help him, he looked up at me and glared. I stopped dead in my tracks. It was him; it was Sergey. I couldn’t believe it, god, he was even more beautiful up close. He gave me a weird look, and if it weren’t for the people around us scurrying to their classes, this would be a very painfully awkward silence. 

“Are you going to help me or not?” He sneered and rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, sorry of course,” God, I couldn’t think straight. I picked up his books as fast as I could and stood up so quickly I felt dizzy. In the back of my head, I knew it had everything to do with him and nothing to do with standing up too fast. “Again, I really am sorry I just didn’t see you there!” I apologized, god I couldn’t get any more awkward. He didn’t say anything and just rolled his eyes yet again. “What did you say your name was again,” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Sergey Kireyev, and you?” 

“Pyotr Tchaikovsky” I smiled brightly, finally being able to talk to this beautiful creature standing before me. I wiped my sweaty palms on my trousers, not wanting him to know how mind-numbingly nervous I was. He put out his hand for me, and when I took it, electric shockwaves went down my spine, and I shivered. My eyes fluttered a bit, and I let out a small gasp, getting sent into a haze from the boy’s touch.  _ God, I love him, never let go, never let go.  _ I gave him a quick firm handshake and let go as fast as possible, denying myself the pleasure of the boy's touch. He was looking at me like I was utterly insane, and I inwardly cringed for not being able to control myself. “Uh, so um, where are you headed?” I asked. 

“The library,” he responded blankly. 

“Let me walk you there, it’s the least I could do,” I insisted, desperately hoping he’d say yes.

“Alright,” he agreed. I smiled brightly and looked back at Aleksey. ‘Meet me later?’ I mouth he nodded and mouthed good luck back. I turned back to Sergey, trying to contain my joy. 

Alright, well, it’s settled then. I’ll make up for bumping into you by walking you to the library, sound good?” I asked hesitantly. 

“Fine by me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who helped edit this I owe y'all a lot! Constructive criticism is always welcome and if anyone has any questions about the fic or even Tchaikovsky you can always leave a comment or message me on my Tumblr @p-tchaikovsky!
> 
> Disclaimer: Although most of what I write is fiction and made up there are some events that have actually taken place in Tchaikovsky's life. A lot of research goes into my writing and although I try to remain as accurate as possible I sometimes slip up
> 
> Link to Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MKonHP8gdk 
> 
> more information on Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend:  
> http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/My_Genius,_My_Angel,_My_Friend


	3. Bitterly and Sweetly: No.3 of Tchaikovsky's Six Romances Op. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter title I will choose a different Tchaikovsky song or duet and this one just so happens to be Bitterly and Sweetly which is no. 3 from Tchaikovsky's Six Romances Op. 6. I chose this song because it's cheery feel and fast tempo really shows how happy Tchaikovsky is to be with Kireyev and just the general joyful air of conversation. Also on a side note, I think that the dictation this singer uses is kind of like actual talking and is kind of like a parallel to how Kiereyev and Tchaikovsky are conversing with one another which I find pretty cool. The swell of the dynamics also conveys the natural flow of a conversation.
> 
> Here's more information about Six romances op 6. including Bitterly and Sweetly: http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/Six_Romances,_Op._6 
> 
> and here's a link to the piece: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aFjhhC9Kxl0

As we were talking to the library together, I was desperately trying to think of something, but to no avail, I could not. It was Kireyev who ultimately broke the silence. 

“Why is everyone looking at us, weirdly?” He asked, looking genuinely confused and extremely annoyed. He sneered at a group of boys who were whispering and pointing at us. 

“I assume it’s because you are a junior walking around with a senior,” I stated simply. He gave me a funny look as if I was an idiot, not knowing what he was talking about. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” He asked, absolutely baffled. 

“I suppose it’s because juniors tend to look up to seniors and feel honored when one of us spends time with them,” I explained calmly, looking down at the shorter boy. He threw back his head, laughing spitefully. I blushed madly, my cock leaping forward in my trousers, thinking of Kireyev throwing his head back for an entirely different reason. I quickly looked away from him, trying to calm my thoughts amongst other things that shall not be named. 

“God, I’m awfully sorry, but Christ, the lengths my classmates will go to get ridiculed is absolutely unthinkable!” He laughed obnoxiously, and I chuckled a bit too. I looked around, and now people were  _ really  _ staring at us.

“It is quite silly when you think about it, yes,” I agreed. God, he looked so cute, laughing so unashamedly like this. He looked up at me and smiled, and I finally felt like I had said something right. “So, what are you going to the library?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going. 

“Just to do a bit of studying,” he looked away again. 

“Wow, you are very studious. When I was your age, I would not be studying during recreational time,” I admitted, slightly impressed by his dedication to his studies. 

“Well, I’ve got a test coming up, and my friends would rather do silly foolish things. If they wanted to study, then I would happily accompany them. I find that boys my age are much more interested in stupid games.”  _ Wow, he’s so mature for his age. Holy shit.  _ My eyes widened in shock; I was never that mature when I was that young. Yes, I was studious, and I loved my studies, but I did have a lot of stupidly fun times and would occasionally get into a bit of trouble. What boy didn’t? I laughed to myself,  _ apparently Kireyev.  _ I couldn’t contain my laughter, and it kind of just slipped out. “What’s so funny?” He spat out defensively. I immediately flinched back and felt horrible for laughing. 

“Nothing, it's just that you’re very mature for your age. 

“Maturity is a virtue if you ask me, and at times I definitely do not possess it. It’s very admirable,” I explained genuinely, trying to make up for my slip up. He looked up at me again, smiling, looking pleased that I complimented him. 

“Really?” He asked, almost beaming. He definitely did not seem like the sort of person who requires validation, but I think everyone enjoys a compliment now and then.

“Well, of course!” I said happily. “When I was a junior, I would have the best times with my friends. We would get carried away and get into trouble,” I explained, chuckling under my breath and fondly thinking of the memories from my past years at school. Kiryev bit his lip, trying not to let out a laugh but ultimately failing. My breath hitched, my overwhelming feelings for the boy becoming almost too much for me to bear. 

“What kind of trouble?” he asked, curiosity peeking through. He then hesitantly looked up at me as if it was a sort of dangerous question. 

“Haha, well this one time, I was in the music room, and I was playing this humorous polka on the piano while some of my other classmates were dancing,” I started to explain, smiling happily and then continued. “Haha, unfortunately, it caught the attention of the French literature and language teacher Joseph Berrard, who at the time had banned dancing. When he entered the room, everyone had fled, but I was so discombobulated that I think I just froze there. He asked what was going on, and I lied to him, which by the way, I feel awful about to this day. He really was my favorite teacher,” I rambled, almost forgetting I was telling the story to Kireyev. 

“Oh, he’s my French teacher at the moment!” He said excitedly. 

“Oh, really? what do you think of him?” I asked, hoping he would like him. 

“I think he’s a brilliant teacher, but he probably hates me,” he stated, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Why do you think such a thing?” I gasped. I knew he was strict, but he never hated anyone. 

“My French is horrendous!” He burst out, cackling, and I couldn’t help but join him. 

“God, that’s absolutely hysterical!” I cried, tears starting to form in my eyes from laughing so hard. By then, he had gotten to the library, and the librarian shot us the dirtiest look. The few students who were in there were looking at us like we were lunatics. But honestly, I couldn’t care less. I was here with the love of my life Sergey Kireyev laughing uncontrollably. He was wheezing as he tried to calm himself down, and his roar of laughter died down to a few giggles. 

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Tchaikovsky, but I should really get to studying,” he announced. My heart sank a bit with the realization that I had to leave, but I tried to stay positive. Overall, our first meeting went much better than I could ever hope for, and I would treasure it for the rest of my life. Little did I know this very moment would be one which would bring me great torment and incredibly mixed feelings about my time here at the Imperial School of Jurisprudence. 

“It was good meeting you too. I hope to see you soon,” I said, biting my lip, trying to memorize every curve of his face before I had to leave. 

“As do I,” he smiled happily. I turned my heel walking away, and I have never been as happy as I was at that moment. 

I was strolling down the hallways, whistling a happy little tune, I could not contain my joy. The door to Mr. Berrard’s classroom was open, and I stepped over the threshold, knowing on the door. “Hello?” I called out hesitantly. He was sitting at his desk, hunched over, looking like he was grading papers or something of the sort. He looked up at the sound of my voice and immediately broke out in a wide smile. His smile beamed, you could see by just his smile what a pleasant man he was. Mr. Berrard was a very lengthy elderly man with white and grey peppered hair, which came just below his ears. To my surprise, his weathered look did not take away from the fact that he was a fairly attractive man. 

“Mr. Tchaikovsky, it is so nice to see you!” He exclaimed enthusiastically. I laughed awkwardly and walked into the room. He set down his round gold-rimmed glasses on his desk and got up from his chair, groaning as his back cracked. I cringed. He chuckled awkwardly. “Lord, I’m getting old, aren’t I?” I laughed uncomfortably, trying to formulate a response. 

“You’re just fine, sir. It’s so good to see you as well!” I replied cheerfully, successfully getting the conversation back on track. 

“So what can I do for you, Mr. Tchaikovsky?” he asked pleasantly, leaning against his desk. I looked him up and down quickly. He still looked just as good if not better than he did five years ago. He was wearing plaid high waisted trousers, paired with a plaid vest, shiny black boots, and a black frock coat. 

“Well, I’ve got a note here for you, Sir. It’s from the senior Russian literature and language teacher,” I told him. 

“Hmm, alright,” I handed him the note, and he opened it, reading its contents. He sighed, then folded the note back up and put it on his desk. “Shall we take a walk while you’re here?” he asked while pushing himself off the desk. 

“It would be my pleasure, sir!” I responded. At first, we were just briskly walking and enjoying each other’s company in silence. 

“I’ve always wondered,” he began. “Do you still write those little french verses?” I chuckled a bit.

“Unfortunately, no, Sir,” I stated. 

“Ah, well that’s too bad, they were very charming. I’ll have you know” He looked over at me smiling a bit disappointedly. 

“I used to write those verses when I was very young and when I started taking your classes. You really inspired me. I know I don’t do it anymore, but I just wanted you to know how much that class, and you have had an impact on my life,” I said sincerely. My hands were a bit shaky, and I was sweating like mad. Confessing things so dear to my heart was always a bit nerve-wracking. He looked at me in shock; I could see the tears start to well up in his dark grey eyes. 

“Oh, Pyotr… That means so much to me,” He practically whispered. I smiled at him, my fear has dissipated, and a warm kind of feeling took its place. 

“I’m glad it does, sir,” I stated simply, trying not to let myself get too emotional. Mr. Berrard paused for a moment, looking at me like he was trying to figure something out and then turned away, continuing to walk in silence. He stopped mid-step and opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, and so he closed it. 

“You seem well, Mr.Tchaikovsky,” he finally spoke. 

“I am well, thank you, Sir,” I smiled and said politely. 

“Would it have anything to do with the fact that you have recently made an acquaintance with a young Sergey Kireyev?” He asked, lifting a quizzical brow. I stopped dead in my tracks. Panic swept over me. 

“How do you know about that?” I questioned, spatting out at him defensively. 

“I saw you walking and laughing with him not too long ago,” he told me. “Are you aware that you are not even allowed in here? There is a reason recreation times are an hour apart for seniors and juniors.” Guilt piled on to my panic. 

“I know. I was here because my teacher had told me to give you a note,” I tried to tell him, but he knew. He knew everything, I could see it in those kind old grey eyes of his. 

“Ah, yes, and it was the perfect excuse to see him, wasn’t it?” I could hear the sarcastic undertone. He was trying to control himself. 

“Sir, no, it’s not about that!” I urgently rushed out, trying to explain myself. 

“Then what is it about?” He challenged. At this point, we had stopped walking, and he was looking me directly in the eye, standing above me, trying to get me to crack. I ripped my gaze away from him, knowing I had already lost this battle. 

“Ugh. Fine, you are right,” I grudgingly admitted. There was this unspoken exchange between us, and his anger melted away. He didn’t have to ask if I fancied Kireyev and I didn’t have to say yes. I didn’t know how he could’ve possibly figured it all out, but he did. His features softened, and he looked at me with genuine care and concern. 

“Please be careful,” he almost begged, barely audible. 

“I will,” I whispered, hoping I could stay true to the statement. We remained silent for the remainder of the walk, the tension in the air between us so palpable it suffocated me. When we got to his office, he wished me well. I didn’t respond, I just turned around and walked away, not really knowing what to feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who helped edit this I owe y'all a lot! Constructive criticism is always welcome and if anyone has any questions about the fic or even Tchaikovsky you can always leave a comment or message me on my Tumblr @p-tchaikovsky!  
> Disclaimer: Although most of what I write is fiction and made up there are some events that have actually taken place in Tchaikovsky's life. A lot of research goes into my writing and although I try to remain as accurate as possible I sometimes slip up
> 
> Link to Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MKonHP8gdk 
> 
> more information on Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend:http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/My_Genius,_My_Angel,_My_Friend


	4. The Gentle Stars Shone For Us: No. 12 of Twelve Romances Op. 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter title I will choose a different Tchaikovsky song or duet and this one just so happens to be The Gentle Stars Shone For Us which is No. 12 of Tchaikovsky's Twelve Romances Op. 60. I chose this particular piece because I feel like the pattern, feel and the shifts in the song really align with what's happening very well. In both the song and the chapter it starts off very soft, quiet, and peaceful. It's how Aleksey starts off talking and most of it is very playful and light. The song gets louder and things start to get more intense like when Tchaikovsky is describing what happens to him every night. The song goes back to its original melody and that's a parallel to how Tchaikovsky calms down after his dreams. The singer gets even more intense and the climax of the song fits perfectly with the climax of the chapter. Finally, one last time things calm down. The chapter and the song ends. ( also on a side note I think deep voice the singer has really fits the vibe here, I love it)
> 
> Here's more information about The Gentle Stars Shone For Us and the Twelve Romances:http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/Twelve_Romances,_Op._60
> 
> and here's a link to the piece: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UDiOHxxzy3c

It had been weeks since my first encounter with Sergey Kireyeev, and I was positively itching to see him. It was a Sunday evening, and while everyone was out, using their spare time to go have fun, Aleksey and I had plopped ourselves down in front of the roaring fire in the dormitories. He was sitting on the couch, a book in his lap, and I, laying on the rug tracing the soft skin on Aleksey’s ankles. We spent many nights like this, just enjoying the silence of each other’s company and the crackling fire. 

“Lyolya?” I asked. He bit his lip and laughed under his breath.

“Yes, Pyotr?” he inquired, not looking up from his book. I took a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for the conversation ahead. 

“I spoke with Mr.Berrard a few weeks ago,” I looked up at Aleksey, still hunched over reading his book. I could now see his hair had draped down to cover his face framing it in quite a lovely fashion. “Oh? And what did he say, Pyotr?” He played at. 

“Lyolya, it was the day I met Sergey Kireyev…” I sighed. His eyes widened, he slammed the book shut, and he shot me a serious look.

“What did he say?” he questioned again, his playful tone now gone. 

“He told me to be careful, just like you did,” I said, half expecting him to shove it in my face saying ‘I told you so!’ in the most cynical mocking voice he could muster. But he didn’t. He just looked away. And although he was trying to hide it, I could still see the pity in his eyes. He then looked back at me, breaking out in a mischievous grin. 

“You know what I always thought about Mr.Berrard?” He asked. I loved it when he said things like this. 

“What?” I replied, eager for his response.

“I’ve always found him quite hot,” he admitted, trying not to laugh. I swatted at his calf, and without delay, I sat up looking at him, utterly shocked. We couldn’t help it, and we finally burst out, absolutely howling. I clutched my stomach, trying to quell the pain that erupted with the force of my laughter. 

“Aleksey, you’re not allowed to say that!” I reprimanded playfully in a fit of giggles. 

“I can say whatever I damn well please!” he announced 

“Oh, really?” I rolled my eyes and shot him a brilliant smile. I was now kneeling on the ground, and I crossed my arms and put them into his lap, placing my head right on them. “You’re really too much,” I told him, finally being able to calm myself. 

“You love it,” he said. I rolled my eyes yet again.  _ For God’s sake, I do love it, Lyolya. _

“You know I do,” 

“Then say it!” He demanded, without any real malice behind it. 

“I do love it,” I admitted. He giggled. 

“Now was that so hard?” he pouted like a little puppy dog. 

“Oh god, yes, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!” I teased dramatically and fell to the ground, pretending to die. He leaped to the floor, looking over me. 

“Dramatic little shit,” he accused. 

“You love it!” I mocked. Hurt flashed in his eyes, but it was all an act. 

“Oh shut up, Tchaikovsky!” I grinned foolishly, and he bit his lip. I shoved him off of me, and he gasped, showing mock betrayal. “I can’t believe you!” he cried out in astonishment. I chortled, and he just punched me. Something in the room shifted, and we just sat there staring at each other. Our breathing synced up, deep breaths, our lungs filling up to capacity. My heart sped up, _are_ _we going to talk about it?_ He refused to address what he knew happened every night, and I did not even dare to speak of it. People then started to shuffle into the room, boisterously laughing and making way too much noise. The moment was broken, and Aleksey looked away. He got up from where he was sitting and cupped my face in his hands.

“You should go to bed, Petya,” he told me. 

“I can’t…” knowing what would happen when I got there. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at me. I didn’t say anything, so he just kissed me on the forehead and left for bed. I hesitantly picked myself up and followed after him. I flopped into bed, staring up blankly at the ceiling. I sighed and closed my eyes, imagining it. Every night was the same. I got into bed absolutely taken over with an erotic desire for this boy, this boy who I should not be thinking about. This boy, too young to comprehend the complexities of this attraction and affection I feel towards him. Every night, gripping myself so hard, it almost hurt. Up and down up and down. Maddening strokes.

Shame made my tears run, chapping my cheeks, which were red with guilt and arousal—screaming at myself to stop.  _ Stop! Stop! Stop!  _ I begged night after night. Ragged breath, burning lungs, and oh god, it feels so fucking good. Finally, I would release into my fist, an anguished cry ripping itself from within me. Each night would end in a tortuous ruined orgasm, each one worse than the last. I would immediately plead God for his forgiveness.  _ Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned I. Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned…. Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned!  _ I opened my eyes. I couldn’t even bear the thought of it. 

“Not tonight,” I told myself. “Not tonight,” I repeated, pleading more than anything. I just laid there in the darkness, not thinking, not doing anything. The only sound I could hear was my breathing, steady breaths in and out, in and out, in and out. It slowly pulled me to sleep. Finally. Peace. I succumbed. 

Sergey appeared, just as he had before. I was looking down at him from above. For a brief moment, I thought I wasn’t even a part of this alternate reality, but I was quickly proven wrong. I looked over, and there I was, sitting with him. His legs slid against my thighs, his knee alarmingly close to my crotch. Way too close for comfort. This other me inhaled sharply as a hand grazed up my thigh. I whined. I could feel everything he was doing, yet somehow he was doing it to the other me, I watched. Sergey smirked at me and licked his lips. 

“Patience Tchaikovsky,” he warned, whispering dangerously. He was power-hungry, and I was at his mercy. He licked up the shell of my ear and proceeded to blow on it lightly. A breathy moan escaped my lips, and I whined again. 

“Sergey… touch me,” I begged softly, my eyes fluttered shut. 

“Shhh,” he whispered. He untucked my shirt from my pants and slid his small hand up my stomach. His thumb grazed over one of my nipples, and in response, I threw back my head. Pleasure shot straight to my groin, I gasped. My vision then swirled around. Everything became blurry and hazy up until I had landed in this other sort of scene. My eyes widened as I saw everything play out in front of me. Sergey was pounding into my other self, holding onto my shoulders, keeping me upright. Sergey was continuously letting out low grunts, and with every vicious thrust, I let out the most animalistic moans. Every thrust enforcing my shame, my guilt, and my humiliation. He kept going and going and going. He then shoved himself into me, forcefully hitting my prostate. I practically screamed. My real self flinched back and shut my eyes tightly. I couldn’t bear the sight of it. My vision swirled again, making me queasy. I was in another scene. Sergey was, here again, there was darkness surrounding him. 

“I know you’ll always love me,” he said, reaching his arm out for me. But the darkness engulfed him until there was nothing left but pitch black. I gasped, my eyes flew open, and I shot up in my bed. I could feel the cold sweat slick against my skin and soaked into my sheets. My breath was coming out in short, fast puffs, my chest rising with it. I looked around me. I was in my bed. I sighed. It was all just a dream, just a dream…. I looked down at my hands, which were vigorously shaking. I started to cry. 

Once I started to calm down a bit, I swung my legs over and set them cautiously on the ground. I pushed myself up off the bed and was immediately hit with a wave of dizziness. 

“Oh, for God’s sake!” I swore under my breath and steadied myself with the wall. I looked up at the big clock in front of the room; It was four o’clock in the morning. I took a few deep breaths and proceeded to walk to the bathrooms. I felt so weak and sick; I could barely walk. I was wobbling like some drunk man walking back home after going drinking all night. I pushed open the heavy door that led to the bathrooms. I tripped over absolutely nothing and panic jolted through my body. I gasped. Fortunately for my nerves, I caught myself on a sink in front of me. I lifted my head and looked up at the mirror in front of me. I was a mess. My chest rose and fell with my erratic breath, my hair, which was wet with sweat, was sticking to my forehead, and I looked so pale. Somebody could easily mistake me for a ghost. I sighed. I turned on the faucet and ran my wrists under the freezing cold water. I shivered. I cupped my hands, letting the water overflow in my palms. I splashed the water on my face, hoping it could help me get a hold of myself. I looked back up at the mirror.

I couldn’t stand the sight of myself.  _ What is wrong with me?  _ I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped the sides of the sink so hard my knuckles turned white. I looked back at myself, but only this time, it wasn’t me. Sergey Kireyev flashed before me. I blinked. And once again, I was staring back at my reflection once again. I screamed, not being able to help it at this point. I punched the mirror; the glass shattered and flew everywhere. The glass shards sunk into my skin, and I felt a sharp edge graze against my cheek. I looked down at my bloodied hand, entirely horrified. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I wept until the sun came up along the horizon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who helped edit this I owe y'all a lot! Constructive criticism is always welcome and if anyone has any questions about the fic or even Tchaikovsky you can always leave a comment or message me on my Tumblr @p-tchaikovsky!  
> Disclaimer: Although most of what I write is fiction and made up there are some events that have actually taken place in Tchaikovsky's life. A lot of research goes into my writing and although I try to remain as accurate as possible I sometimes slip up
> 
> Link to Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MKonHP8gdk 
> 
> more information on Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend:http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/My_Genius,_My_Angel,_My_Friend


	5. Wait!: No. 2 of Six Romances Op. 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter title I will choose a different Tchaikovsky song or duet and this one just so happens to be Wait! from Tchaikovsky's Six Romances Op. 16. I chose this piece because overall this piece has a very gentle and sweet melody, plus the singer has a clear tone which is like how tender Aleksey is with Pyotr in the beginning. Although the song is very calming and pure, it has a very eerie and ominous undertone that parallels how Pyotr feels when things take a bit of a turn at church. Then that one note where the singer sours softly above everything is exactly how content Pyotr feels when he is at church and when he is singing. I also thought it was cool how the singer's voice is so high and is so resonant just like how Pyotr's voice rings through the church. ( Yes I specifically chose this recording because she is a soprano)
> 
> side note: see what I did there with the song being called wait hehe ;)
> 
> Here's more information about Wait! and the Six Romances Op. 16:http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/Six_Romances,_Op._16 
> 
> and here's a link to the piece: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihRcZU5DSKA

Aleksey was the first to find me. 

“Oh my god, Pyotr, what in the world happened??” He knelt down to where I was sitting and looked me in the eyes. I could see the absolute terror and panic swirling around in the deep pools of his light blue eyes. 

“I- I…” I tried but couldn’t even speak. Tears started streaming down my face yet again. He shushed me and picked up off the floor. 

“I know I know it’s ok. You’ll be ok. Come on, let’s go get you cleaned up,” he said softly and brought me to my bed. He started to pluck out the pieces of glass that had lodged themselves into my knuckles. I winced. He looked up at me and bit his lip.

“I know it hurts. I’m sorry,” he practically whispered. Small beads of blood would immediately come out when Aleksey pulled out the glass. He wiped it gently with a cloth, and once all the pieces were out, he wrapped it up. He took my hand and kissed where he had just placed the makeshift bandage. He gave me a shy smile. 

“All better,” he announced. There was nobody in the world who understood me more than Aleksey. I kissed him lightly on the cheek and whispered in his ear. 

“Thank you,”  _ you mean the world to me _ . It didn’t have to be said for him to understand, and for that, I was grateful. 

After breakfast, Aleksey and I headed back to the dormitories to get ready for church. I was standing in front of a mirror, and Aleksey was lying down on my bed writing in his journal. I was putting on my choir “uniform,” checking myself out in the mirror. 

“Checking yourself out, I see,” Aleksey snickered. My face flushed a deep shade of pink. 

“I’m fixing my uniform!” I spoke out bashfully. 

“Mmm, right,” he said sarcastically. He turned back to his journal, continuing to write, I turned back to my reflection. After a few moments of silence Aleksey spoke. 

“Do you think Kireyev will be there?” He asked casually. My eyes widened, I hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I don’t really know. He hasn’t been there for a few weeks,” I stated. 

“I know, I wonder why…” He pondered. 

“I’ve no clue,” I replied honestly. The bell rang loud and clear, indicating it was time for church. Aleksey hopped off the bed and put his hands on my shoulders. We looked at ourselves in the mirror. 

“You do look handsome, you know,” he told me. I smiled. He really was charming. 

“Thank you, Lyolya,” he was far too nice to me at times. As we walked down the halls to the chapel, I looked over at him. Sometimes I wondered if he ever liked me. We both knew we were just friends and would remain that way until the end of time. We were just very close. I didn’t think I could ever like Lyolya in that kind of way. He wasn’t very pleasing to the eye. I had been staring at him for far too long, and right as I was about to look away, he caught my gaze. He stopped in his tracks, and a lopsided grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

“What is it?” He asked. I shook my head and chuckled to myself a bit. 

“Nothing nothing,” I assured. “Come on, we're going to be late,” I told him. When we walked into the chapel, there were already so many people there. Bustling around, talking, laughing, and just overall, getting ready for the service. I turned to Aleksey, and he grabbed my hand, squeezing it. 

“Good luck,” he whispered. I just smiled back and joined the two other boys in the trio at the front of the chapel. In the trio, I always sang the top part, I've always had a quite beautiful treble voice. Everyone was talking amongst themselves, and us three were going over what we would sing. I was desperately looking over the crowd trying to spot Kireyev, but I couldn’t see him anywhere. 

“Tchaikovsky, we’re starting,” one of them whispered to me. I gasped. We came up to the altar, each one of us bowing before we stepped up. We sang the bishop’s service at the beginning and the end, but singing the liturgy was my favorite part. I always felt so proud to be partaking in services by singing. I closed my eyes, letting the music consume myself. What better way to pray to God than in the form of a song? The practices had definitely paid off because our voices were blending so well, every note in perfect timing, in perfect pitch. I was so moved; it almost brought me to tears, but I told myself no.  _ Not here.  _ I took another deep breath steadying myself and continued to sing—pure bliss. As the song progressively became quieter, I knew it was about to end. I took in one last deep breath, using it to complete the song—one beautiful final chord. 

I was met with complete silence. It was expected but shocking nonetheless. I took my cue and turned around towards the bench where the bishop sat. As we took our seats, he got up and gave us a cheerful smile. What a lovely man he was. He took us through the opening prayer, I bowed my head, closed my eyes, and wished good health and health to my loved ones. He then read the sermon; I absorbed every word he said like a sponge. The bishop then summoned us up to the altar for the liturgy. Unlike the opening hymn, I alone would have to start. The other two boys who were in the trio with me sang after. God, it was nerve-wracking. I closed my eyes and began to sing.

My high voice rang through the entire place and echoed off the walls back to me. I sounded better than I ever had before. My heart was pounding dully in my chest, and my eyes fluttered open in delight. Cold terror then shot through me. My eyes met with Sergey Kireyev. I gasped. Every image, every dream, every memory I had of him appeared before me. His naked body, soft skin, plump pink lips, and god is dark, disheveled hair. Thinking of him kissing me, caressing me, relentlessly pounding into me. 

I made a small hiccup like noise in the back of my throat and if the boys in the pews weren’t looking at me before they definitely were now. Everyone was flat out, staring at me, their mouths agape and eyes wide. I looked back to Keieyev, _god, what a beautiful face._ The face of all my suffering, the front of my most passionate amorous infatuation I had ever felt. How could one boy cause such conflicting emotions inside of me? How could a boy of only fourteen stir up such intense arousal and attraction within me? I looked over, and the two other boys were looking at me like I was absolutely mad. ‘I’m sorry,’ I mouthed. I began singing again, this time significantly worse in quality. My voice was slightly shaky, and thank god I wasn’t the only one singing. I was utterly miserable during the rest of the song. When at last it was done, I sighed and slumped into one of the chairs behind the altar. I desperately tried to pay attention to the mass, but no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t. And god, I just could not pull my eyes away from Sergey Kireyev. He caught my gaze, his eyes widened, and I looked away, my face turning beet red. 

_ For god’s sake, Pyotr, pull, yourself.  _ I slouched and let my head roll down to look at my hands, which were clasped together. I sighed for what seemed to be the millionth time that day. The boy tapped me on the shoulder when it was time for everyone to receive communion, I got up hesitantly. All the altar boys, including us, lined up in front of the priest, and he gave us the eucharist. I was finally face to face with him, and oh god, I was terrified. I felt like he could take one look into my eyes and see the sins that darkened my soul. His gaze penetrated me, he had a slight intake of breath, and his pupils dilated with utter shock. I panicked. He knew what great shame lies beneath the surface.  _ How could he possibly know I had committed awful sins, am I that transparent?  _ Obviously, he could never exactly know what I did, but he knew there was something there. I did the only thing I could think to do and bowed my head, pressing my hands together like a prayer. He lifted the small cracker, his hands shaking quite a bit. He appeared to be completely taken aback. 

“The body of Christ,” he whispered grimly. 

“Amen,” I mumbled, shame heating my face. I immediately turned around, grabbing the bowl filled with the rest of the crackers, getting ready to give everyone communion. I stepped down from the altar and bowed once again. I went up to the first pew and stood there waiting for the boys to start lining up and coming down. Just like I had done when I got up to the priest, each and every one of them would bow. 

“The body of Christ,” I said. 

“Amen,” was always the reply. Aleksey was finally up here, and he bowed to me just like the rest. As he lifted his head back up, his baby blue eyes met mine; he bit his lip. 

“The body of Christ’”

“Amen,” he whispered, soon followed by a deep breath. 

“Are you okay?” He questioned cautiously, fear evident on his face. I averted my gaze. 

“We’ll talk about it later I promise,” I gave him a pained smile, he just plopped the cracker in his mouth and headed back to his pew. I let out a long sigh, only one more thing to do; the ending hymn. I made my way back up to the altar bowing again,  _ god this is horrifically repetitive.  _ A thought then occurred to me,  _ why am I letting this boy ruin my service. I love church. I will not allow the rest of this to go to waste.  _ The boys gave me a death glare. They were definitely not happy. I gave them a hesitant smile, and on their count started singing. Just like in the opening hymn, I savored every word, every note, and every breath I took in from the depths of my stomach. Every time I paid extra attention to the words I was singing, I teared up.  _ God, what beautiful poetry. Much like Aleksey’s.  _ I noted. And just like that, the song ended. I wish it could go on for eternity.  _ For god’s sake, Pyotr, you have got to stop letting images of that boy’s body plague you,  _ I cursed myself. The bishop led us through the ending prayer, and then we all walked down from the altar, bowing one last time. The service had ended. Once again, all the boys started talking and bustling about. Some scurried out, and some stayed back. I scanned over the crowd trying to find Kireyev, hoping he hadn’t left yet. My eyes caught his unimaginably dark head of hair. He was with his friends, looking like they were trying to get their way out of the church. I cursed. I ran down the hall, pushing past the pool of boys. They all gave me dirty looks, and I kept apologizing profusely. I know it was horribly rude of me, but I had to talk to him, I hadn’t seen him in weeks for god’s sake! I leaped forward and grabbed onto his wrist. My fingers tingled, and electric shock waves shot up my spine. The hairs on my neck stood up; I shivered. 

“Kireyev, wait!” I called out. He gasped and immediately turned around.

“Oh, haha, Tchaikovsky, it’s you!” he pointed out, letting out a nervous chuckle. 

“Yep, it’s me,” I mumbled.  _ God, this is so awkward!  _

“So what can I do for you?” He asked, running his fingers through his dark lock. Oh, how I wished to do that. It looked so soft if only I could just reach out and touch...“Tchaikovsky..?” he asked. I gasped and was pulled out of my trance. 

“Sorry, right, I just wanted to come and say hi,” I rubbed the back of my neck and smiled. His stone-cold expression seemed to melt. 

“Well hello,” none of us said anything for a moment, I hurriedly tried to find something to say, thank god he decided to speak up first. “You sounded very good up there,” he commented. His friends snickered behind him and he flushed a deep red. “I must be going now,” he told me before I could even get a word out. It happened so fast I could barely process it all. He was already out the door when I responded. 

“Right,” I sighed happily, and a warm feeling spread through my body. I finally got to talk to him!  _ God, I love that boy. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who helped edit this I owe y'all a lot! Constructive criticism is always welcome and if anyone has any questions about the fic or even Tchaikovsky you can always leave a comment or message me on my Tumblr @p-tchaikovsky!  
> Disclaimer: Although most of what I write is fiction and made up there are some events that have actually taken place in Tchaikovsky's life. A lot of research goes into my writing and although I try to remain as accurate as possible I sometimes slip up
> 
> Link to Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MKonHP8gdk 
> 
> more information on Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend:http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/My_Genius,_My_Angel,_My_Friend


	6. Don Juan's Serenade: No. 1 of Six Romances Op. 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter title I will choose a different Tchaikovsky song or duet and this one just so happens to be Don Juan's Serenade: from Tchaikovsky's Six Romances Op. 38. Choosing a song for this chapter was actually very difficult because the beginning/middle and the end are very contrasting. Nonetheless, I chose thing song for that exact reason, it changes throughout the piece. The beginning starts very fast past having scales and a heavy bassline indicating the conflict in the beginning. The piece slows down, just a bit, and has a nice flow which to me was like Tchaikovsky's talk with the priest. It goes back to the scales/ arpeggios and the driving bassline which parallels the changing of scenes. Back to the slower part of the song, this also shows a change in dynamics, not just in the song but also in the chapter. Once more it switches back to the fast pass beginning of the song which to me is kind of like how I left the chapter at a cliffhanger.
> 
> Here's more information about Don Juan's Serenade and the Six Romances Op. 38:  
> http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/Six_Romances,_Op._38 
> 
> and here's a link to the piece: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L1bRg7n10sQ

I made my way back up to the altar, thank god I didn’t have to bow this time, and met with the other boys who were conversing with the bishop. He gave me a cheerful smile, and he extended his arm to shake my hand. 

“I just want to tell you how excellent you boys were. I’m so pleased you could sing at the service!” He grasped my hand, shaking it with both of his hands. 

“We’re glad we could participate too, I will treasure it for years to come,” I said genuinely.

“Good, I’m glad!” His eyes were crinkled with joy. “Have a wonderful day, boys! God bless your souls,” he shook everyone’s hand and turned to go speak to some of the teachers. The priest led us to the back room so we could take off our uniforms. The other boys glared at me and god the silence was like a thick heavy blanket. 

“Tchaikovsky, what the fuck happened up there? You really threw us off guard!” One of them spat out at me, slapping me on the arm. Tears welled up in my eyes. 

“I don’t know I just- I’m sorry I got choked up I’m so sorry,” I wish I could provide more of an explanation,  _ god it’s all my fault I can’t believe I let myself go like that.  _

“No, you’re not sorry! You’re so selfish!” He accused spitefully. The words slashed me like a knife, and pain erupted in my chest. A strangled cry burst out from deep within my throat, I turned away from him, and the tears started flowing freely now. 

“He apologized there is no need to be so cruel,” the other boy came to my defense. I turned back around, more than just a bit shocked, and my eyes locked with his. I looked back at the one who had insulted me. He scoffed and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

“I’m sorry he said those things about you, he’s overreacting. It's really ok,” he assured calmly. 

“Is it really? I feel so awful I shouldn’t have been so absorbed with my problems,” I sniffled, trying to stop the tears and compose myself. 

“Yes, of course, it’s ok. We all mess up sometimes. You are a phenomenal singer Tchaikovsky, you really are,” he clasped my shoulder and grinned. I blushed at the compliment. 

“Thank you,” I said meekly. 

“You are welcome…” he paused for a moment and appeared to be thinking about something. “Would you like me to walk you back to the dormitories,” he asked hesitantly. And somehow that made me feel a bit better. 

“I actually have something I need to take care of here,” 

“Oh well… I will wait for you then,”

“You would do that?”  _ how kind.  _

“Yes of course,” he smiled and gave me one last glance, turning away undressing. I did the same. I exited the room as quickly as possible and scurried to confessions.  _ I have to do it now.  _ Meeting the priest face to face was absolutely unnerving and I would never be ok with myself if I didn’t confess my sins. I took a deep breath and opened the thick velvet curtain to the confession box. I sat down on the hard bench presented in front of me.  _ Now is the time.  _

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned,” I spoke into the grate next to me. 

“What is this sin you speak of” he questioned. 

“The most shameful act. I have been having erotic thoughts and desires for a younger boy,” I spat out ashamedly. I bit my lip and tears fell from my eyes.  _ How humiliating.  _

“And have you acted on these thoughts?” 

“No god no!” I assured.

“Good, good,” was all he said. 

“But… I have done unspeakable things in solitude,” My voice cracked and I tried to hold back a sob. “I think of him and I just cannot help it,” I cried desperately, hoping he would somehow understand and take pity on me. The priest sighed. 

“There is no need to cry, my child. You are clearly very upset by this and you regret it don’t you?” he inquired. 

“Yes, I am so disgusted with myself I am so so sorry Father. It won’t ever happen again!” I rushed out hopelessly. 

“It is ok my child you are forgiven as long as you never do such a thing again,” he told me. I cried out in relief,  _ I am forgiven.  _

“No never again!” I declared. “Thank you, Father!”  _ I am so grateful!  _ “I kiss at your feet, I hug your ankles, I worship you and cherish every word you speak!” I babbled. 

“That is enough child. You are free to go,” he said politely. I left without another word. Once again I wiped away my tears and composed myself, heading over to my newfound friend. He stood up when he saw me walking over, a cheerful expression on his face. 

“Are you ready to go?” he asked happily. 

“Most definitely!”

We walked back to the dorms in almost utter silence. The only thighs to be heard were our shoes on the hard stone floor and the occasional student shuffling past us. When we entered the dorms my ears were absolutely assaulted with the sound of boys obnoxiously laughing, talking, drinking, and playing games.  _ What could the occasion be? _ I wondered. I scanned the room full of various groups of boys trying to find Aleksey.  _ For god’s sake Aleksey where are you?!  _

“I’m going to look for my friend,” I told my new friend. 

“Oh.. well, can I come with you?” he asked with uncertainty. 

“You’re welcome to if you please,” I told him, he beamed. We walked down the long hall, filled with beds. Finally, in the back corner, my eyes caught a blonde head of hair. It was unmistakably him. He was sitting in a circle with about ten boys drinking and garishly laughing. Among the group were Vladimir Gerard, Ivan Turchaninov, and the rest I couldn’t name. I looked over to Aleksey who took a swig of some unmarked bottle, presumably filled with alcohol. I tapped him on the shoulder and he dramatically gasped. Everyone turned to me including Aleksey who now had a goofy lopsided grin tugging at his lips. He tripped over himself trying to stand up and swayed a bit when he finally managed to get on his feet. 

“Guys Petya is here!” he announced. He flung himself on me, wrapping his arms around my neck. 

“Mmm I missed you,” he whispered in my ear. He was so close, I could smell the alcohol and the heady smell of arousal.

“Oh look who’s quite drunk,” I chuckled. He let go of me and threw his head back letting out a hearty laugh. 

“I’m just a bit tipsy, that’s all!” he giggled. 

“Oh, just a bit?” I played at. 

“Mmhmm,” he agreed, not getting it. 

“How about let's slow down with the alcohol,” I said, chucking a bit. Mostly to hide the fact that I was a bit worried about him. I took the bottle out of his hand and he gasped in betrayal. 

“I can’t believe you just did that!” He pouted. “We were just about to play a game!” he declared. 

“Oh, what kind of game?” I asked playfully. He bit his lip and looked me up and down. 

“A fun one,” he whispered a mischievous glint in his eyes. I gulped. I knew exactly what he was talking about. “Join us,” he whined. 

“Yeah join us!” The other boys chorused after time. 

“Oh, I don’t know Lyolya…” I looked around the group. There was so much alcohol.  _ God, I could use a drink.  _ And the boys weren’t all that attractive either. I had promised the priest I would not do anything, I couldn’t engage in such an activity.  _ For god’s sake Pyotr please just have a strong will for once!  _ They all looked up at me with pleading eyes. God, this was too much. I looked back to Aleksey who had puppy dog eyes.  _ Just say no, just say no, just say no.  _

“Oh, alright,” I agreed. They all cheered. I sat down with the group right next to Aleksey.  _ Hopefully, this won’t be too awful.  _ “So what game are we going to play?” I asked, mostly to Aleksey. 

“Hmm, let me think,” he pondered, rubbing at his chin. “How about Twirl the Trencher,” he laughed. 

“Oh come on that’s a little kid’s game!” Gerard called out exasperatedly. Aleksey chuckled. 

“Exactly my point!” he said matter of factly. Gerard just rolled his eyes. “Come on guys what do you say?” he asked with a sense of hopefulness. 

“Let’s do it!” a few of them agreed. 

“What about forfeit tasks?” one interjected again. Aleksey looked at me and bit his lip. 

“The person who calls out the loser’s name gets to decide the punishment,” he said, a dangerous look in his eye _.  _

“That’s fair!” They all said.  _ Nooo, you’re supposed to say no!  _

“Great then I’ll go over the rules!” he smiled sending me another mischievous glance.  _ For god’s sake Aleksey, why are you doing this to me? Well, it’s decided then, I just can’t lose.  _ “Ok, so the rules are the following. Each player is assigned either a number. The starter goes to the center of the circle and spins a plate on its edge. He calls out a number or one of the names and dashes to his seat. The person being called out must jump up and rush to the plate to spin it again and call out another player. The play continues until someone is not quick enough and the plate falls. That player then must pay a forfeit!” he announced with a smug look. 

“Sure sounds like the rules!” one of them pointed out. Aleksey smirked. 

“There’s a twist,” he let out a vicious laugh. “Before spinning the plate you have to take a shot!” I rolled my eyes. Everyone nodded their heads listening. He assigned everyone a number, his being one, mine being two, Gerard’s being six, and Turchaninov being five. As I said before I didn’t really know the other boys’ names. And so the game began. Aleksey started first. He took a shot, spun the plate, and then he decided to wait a moment before calling out a number. The suspense was killing me.  _ Please not me, please don’t pick me.  _

“Ten!” he called out and hurried back to his seat.  _ Thank god!  _ The boy whose number was ten tripped over his feet trying to get to the center of the circle. He hastily took a shot and spun the plate just in time. 

“Three!” he shouted. Laughing a bit as he plopped back into his seat. Number three scrambled up from the place he was sitting and took a shot. He chuckled triumphantly as he spun the plate. Everyone was laughing and tumbling around as they tried to get up. I was surprised everyone could spin the plate considering how drunk the whole lot was. It seemed that all the boys were enjoying themselves quite thoroughly, even I was enjoying myself sitting here watching everyone.  _ This has been going on for a bit, I wonder why I haven't been called… _

“One!” Gerard hollered, sending me out of my trance. My eyes widened.  _ That is Aleksey’s number.  _ He smiled brightly and leapt from his seat taking a deep swig from the bottle. He spun the plate. His cheeks were rosy from what I could only assume was the alcohol he smirked at me.  _ Is he going to pick me?  _

“Two!” He called out. I should have known _.  _ I rushed up to the middle of the circle picking up the bottle Aleksey had just placed down and gulped what little was left from it. I went to go spin the plate. My hands were shaking from the nerves and the plate slipped from my fingers, thumping to the ground.  _ How clumsy could I possibly be!  _ Everyone laughed.  _ How humiliating!  _

“Pyotr you lose you must forfeit!” He snickered. 

“I forfeit,” I mumbled looking away from that.

“What?” I couldn’t quite hear what you said?” He asked. I just rolled my eyes. 

“I forfeit!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who helped edit this I owe y'all a lot! Constructive criticism is always welcome and if anyone has any questions about the fic or even Tchaikovsky you can always leave a comment or message me on my Tumblr @p-tchaikovsky!  
> Disclaimer: Although most of what I write is fiction and made up there are some events that have actually taken place in Tchaikovsky's life. A lot of research goes into my writing and although I try to remain as accurate as possible I sometimes slip up
> 
> Link to Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MKonHP8gdk 
> 
> more information on Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend:http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/My_Genius,_My_Angel,_My_Friend


	7. To Forget so Soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter title I will choose a different Tchaikovsky song or duet and this one just so happens to be To Forget so Soon. I'm gonna keep it real with y'all... I legit just chose this piece because it's the only one I could imagine have sex to HAHA. Anyway tell me if you think it's a good fit for this chapter
> 
> Here's more information about To Forget so Soon:  
> http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/To_Forget_So_Soon 
> 
> and here's a link to the piece:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TkGWW-kaNps

“Well, boys what shall his punishment be?” Aleksey asked the group, swaying as he stood up. I took the bottle from his hand. He scowled but didn’t protest. 

“Make him lick the floor!” one of them laughed, the rest followed suit. 

“Give us a striptease!” Another howled. They laughed even harder. 

“Bend him over your knee and give him a good spanking!” a different boy cackled. 

“That’s a good one!” another boy agreed. I blushed madly at the vulgar suggestions. 

“Oh don’t be so harsh on poor Petya!” he reprimanded lightheartedly with sympathy in his eyes. He knelt down on both his knees and stroked my hair. 

“You are so drunk, Lyolya,” I laughed. He giggled. 

“I know,” he admitted. “Now what to do with you I wonder,” he trailed off, his eyes boring into mine. He looked out to the group with a twinkle in his eye. “Now who would like to kiss dear Petya here?” he asked, biting his lip. Everyone’s hand shot up. I smiled awkwardly and looked away. 

“Lyolya!” I whined exasperatedly.  _ God this is so embarrassing!  _

“What?” He asked innocently. I rolled my eyes. 

“So what is my punishment?” I asked. He bit his lip again. 

“You’ve got to kiss someone in the group!” He told me.  _ Wow, that’s surprisingly tame.  _ I was expecting something much worse. 

“That’s it?” I asked, a bit shocked. 

“Yep!” 

“But who do I kiss?” I inquired skeptically. 

“You get to decide!” There was an almost pleading look in his eyes.  _ Did he want me to kiss him?  _ I looked to the rest of the group, they eyed me hungrily. I flushed at the attention. 

“God this is too much stress!” I cried out. I stood up in the middle of the circle and stuck my arm out. 

“I’ll close my eyes and whoever I’m pointing to that’s who I’ll kiss!” I announced. I squeezed my eyes shut and spun around. I stopped right as I felt myself getting dizzy and cautiously opened my eyes. I was pointing at Vladimir Gerard. His face broke out in a wicked grin, he looked positively smug. The other boys groaned and looked away from the victor, clearly upset.  _ How could they possibly want me? _ I sat down in the place I was standing and Gerard sauntered up to me, joining me on the ground. God, he wasn't half bad looking. He was actually quite attractive. He had a pretty small frame, soft skin, and pretty plump lips. Suddenly I was filled with anxiety; I actually had to kiss him and in front of everyone in the group. My heartbeat sped up and I gulped. 

“Nervous?” He asked, a warm smile on his face. It calmed me for a moment. 

“A bit,” I admitted. He placed his hand on my thigh, and I relaxed into his touch. 

“I won’t kiss you if you don’t want it,” he spoke softly. It soothed me. I closed my eyes. 

“I do,” I said honestly. He took that as his cue and his hand traveled up my leg and to my hip. Then he wrapped his whole arm around my waist, drawing me closer to him. He took his other hand and cupped my face, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Doesn’t seem like much of a punishment then, does it?” He whispered. 

“No,” I replied breathlessly, his lips ghosting mine. His lips then touched mine, so softly I could hardly feel it. He pulled back, I opened my eyes, slightly confused. He dashingly smiled and dove in to kiss me again, this time with incredible force. My eyes widened with shock, I definitely wasn’t expecting that. But soon they fluttered shut, I wanted to enjoy this. In the background, I could hear a few of the boys wolf-whistling. I ignored it and kissed Gerard back. His lips felt so incredibly good against mine, they were like velvet. I couldn’t help it, I moaned into his mouth. He took this opportunity and shoved his tongue through my lips. His hands clawed at my back and he pressed his body unimaginably close to mine. I laced my fingers through his hair, tightly grabbing onto one of his arms. I didn’t think he could be any closer to me than he was now. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, and god, it set fire to my own. His tongue started to fight against mine, trying to gain dominance. I fought back with vigor. 

I smirked against his lips. I had a plan. I took my hand which was gripping his arm and moved it down to his waist. I ever so slightly brushed my fingertips against his clothed cock. He gasped and immediately stopped his motions. He pulled away from me and eyes widened.  _ Oh god, was that the wrong thing to do?  _ I panicked. Just as I was going to ask him if everything was alright he started kissing me again; this time, more fervently than before. He untucked my shirt from my pants and slid his hands under my uniform. I palmed his erection, he moaned and kissed me harder. He pushed his hands further up the sides of my torso, his hands so cold it sent shivers down my spine. It felt so good to be touched. He then started to attack my neck with love bites and kisses. I let my head roll back, and groaned. 

“Fuck, I want to rip all your clothes off,” he whispered harshly into my ear. Pleasure pooled in my gut; I whined. 

“Do it,” I begged softly. His pupils were blown out wide and god he looked at me with such hunger. He smashed his lips mine which caused me to topple to the ground, and he followed. I groaned when my back hit the hard floor. 

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled quietly. He kissed me gently and smiled when he pulled away. He rested his arms against the floor trying to support himself, he looked down at me biting his lip. For a moment we just looked at each other, everything dead silent aside from our ragged breathing. He bit his lip and pushed himself up off of the floor. I fought the urge to whine, I wanted him pressing his body against mine. I didn’t want him to stop touching me ever. He went back to his spot in the circle, several boys whistled and clapped on the back, a job well done. They laughed at the tent in his trousers and he rolled his eyes, his face heating up from embarrassment.

“Oh shut up everyone, let’s just keep playing the game!” He dismissed them. I took my place back next to Aleksey, half-hard, and terribly unsatisfied. I had no desire to play whatsoever but I had no choice. I looked over to Aleksey and his jaw was dropped, he was in absolute disbelief.

“Petya what was that??” He asked in shock. 

“You told me to kiss him so I did!” I laughed in mock defense. 

“Well yeah, but I didn’t think you’d do that!” He leaned over to me biting his lip. 

“It was hot Petya,” he whispered in my ear. I shivered and my cock twitched at the thought of it. My eyes darted up to Vladimir Gerard. He scanned my body, undressing me with his eyes. I blushed a bright red and ripped my gaze away from his. Aleksey again took a shot, spun the plate, and called out a number. The games continued. I didn’t pay much attention nor did I participate much but I was there nonetheless. Vladimir kept sending me heated glances and it chipped away at my self-control. I wanted him so bad, I needed his body pressed up hard against mine. The boys in the group laughed obnoxiously, yelling as they kept playing the game, the previous events already forgotten. They rarely called out my name which I was so grateful for. I didn’t want to lose again. Each time someone would lose the punishments got worse and worse. Boys would take off items of clothes, even strip naked, some even had to bring themselves to completion in front of the whole group. It did absolutely nothing to calm the rampant thoughts I had Vladimir Gerard naked and gyrating against me. If anything it only fueled my arousal and the overwhelming need for release. This went on for god knows how long and Christ I was getting impatient.  _ I can’t take this anymore. _

“I’ve gotta go,” I absentmindedly said to Aleksey. 

“Wha- where are you going?” He asked dumbfoundedly, hurt in his eyes. I ignored the question. 

“I’m going now,” I kissed him on the cheek and glanced across the circle to Vladimir. He bit his lip looking over to me. I stood up and ran off. As I rounded the corner I heard Vladimir’s voice, I smirked. I knew he’d come. 

“Tchaikovsky, wait!” He called out. I felt him grab on to his wrist and he pulled me in, kissing me hard. I wrapped my arms around him and deepened the kiss. I could feel his erection pressed against my thigh, he moaned. I smirked, he wanted me just as much as I wanted him.

“Too many clothes,” I mumbled against his lips. He grunted in response, I tugged at his uniform, fumbling with the buttons. As I started to undo the buttons he led me to one of the beds and forcefully pushed me down onto it. He took his jacket off and then started on his shirt. I took that opportunity to start hastily undoing the buttons on my own uniform. My fingers were shaking in anticipation, I could barely focus on what I was doing. I was so overwhelmed by desire. He helped me pull my jacket off and then proceeded to rip off my crisp white shirt, the buttons flew everywhere. If it were any other time I would’ve cared but not now. I needed him, needed him touching me, needed his bare skin against mine. We were now both shirtless,  _ god his skin looks so smooth. _ I pushed myself up so I was completely on the bed, he climbed on top of me. He stayed there for a moment not doing anything, just breathing heavily and admiring my half-naked body sprawled out on the bed. I felt as if I was going mad, my skin started to tingle with want.  _ I need him. _

“Touch me,” I begged in a whisper. He looked overwhelmed by the request, almost as if it was too much for him to handle at the moment. He cupped my cheek and traced my skin with his thumb, staring down at me lovingly. He moved his fingers down to my throat, to my collarbone, and then to my chest. He then circled one of my nipples. I gasped. A breathy moan escaped my lips and I bucked my hips forward. Just that one touch pushed me close to the edge, I had been desperate for him all night. He moved his hand down to my waistband and undid the buttons on my trousers. I kicked my shoes off and he pushed my pants down so I was left in just my undergarments. I bucked my hips again trying to get him to do something. He kissed me again,  _ god this will never get old.  _ Again I wrapped my arms around him and pulled at his hair. He let out a breathy laugh looking at me with danger in his eyes.

“Feisty aren’t we?” He commented, I smirked. Right as I was going to respond he ground against me, our erections moving against each other only separated by just the fabric of our clothing which just created more friction. 

“Oh god!” I cried out and threw my head back. He let out another breathless chuckle. I could hear just how much this affected him. My thighs were beginning to go numb with pleasure, I had never been so hard. I started thrusting against him, trying to meet his rhythm. I dug my nails into his back, he hissed and viciously rutted against me. It was hot and desperate and messy. Our sweat-slicked chests slid against each other as our bodies erratically moved against one another. Pleasure pulsed through my veins, I was so overcome with it I could hardly make a sound. I felt as if I couldn’t catch my breath, I was breathing so heavily my lungs ached. I heard my heartbeat in my ears and in the background, I could hear Vladimir’s animalistic grunts. I let out a breathy moan, I was so incredibly close to the edge I couldn’t believe I hadn’t come yet. I was so close, so painstakingly close. I desperately needed to come. I tried to vocalize that but nothing would come out, I was so fucking frustrated. My thrusts became frantic. He understood the message and started sucking the sweet spot on my neck. Pleasure went shooting straight to my cock. My eyes widened, this was it. I squeezed them shut and my vision turned white. Everything came crashing down on me, all the pressure finally released after hours of torturous build-up. I came hard. My whole body thrummed with the force of my seemingly endless orgasm. I felt extremely lightheaded. _ So good. _ I sighed with satisfaction. It was the first orgasm that was not ruined by shame since I had met Sergey Kireyev. _ Finally. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who helped edit this I owe y'all a lot! Constructive criticism is always welcome and if anyone has any questions about the fic or even Tchaikovsky you can always leave a comment or message me on my Tumblr @p-tchaikovsky!  
> Disclaimer: Although most of what I write is fiction and made up there are some events that have actually taken place in Tchaikovsky's life. A lot of research goes into my writing and although I try to remain as accurate as possible I sometimes slip up
> 
> Link to Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MKonHP8gdk 
> 
> more information on Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend:http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/My_Genius,_My_Angel,_My_Friend


	8. We Sat Together: No. 1 of Six Romances Op. 73

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter title I will choose a different Tchaikovsky song or duet and this one just so happens to be We Sat Together from Tchaikovsky's Six Romances Op. 73. I chose this piece because, in the beginning, it has a very slow and moving melody which is like when Tchaikovsky woke up in bed with Vladimir Gerard. The song builds which to me signifies his conflict throughout the day. The song slows back down and the chapter comes to a peaceful end.
> 
> Here's more information about We Sat Together and the Six Romances Op. 73:  
> http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/Six_Romances,_Op._73 
> 
> and here's a link to the piece:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5iqpuo7EnA

I woke up with the sound of the bell for breakfast and the worst headache of my entire life. I opened my eyes and groaned, _ I had way too much to drink last night. _ The lights coming in from the windows were just too much, I closed my eyes and flipped over onto my stomach. My leg brushed up against something in the process and I gasped. I opened my eyes ever so slightly, there was somebody else in bed with me. My eyes scanned the boy’s body,  _ oh holy hell it’s Vladimir Gerard. _ I shifted around so my legs weren’t intertwined with his anymore and became suddenly aware that I was almost completely naked, the only thing left was my undergarments. All the events from last night came rushing back to me. _ I had drunken sex with Vladimir Gerard. _

“Oh good lord,” muttered. I heard a slight chuckle from the boy in bed next to me. I turned to him, god he had the biggest smirk on his face. His handsome face… he flashed a brilliant smile at me. 

“Good morning to you too,” he bit his lip while his thumb traced my arm. Just that slight touch caused goosebumps to appear and arousal to start building up inside of me. How could one touch elicit such feelings inside of me? This is dangerous, I can’t be feeling this. I sat up, a wave of dizziness and nausea hit me. 

“Fuck,” I swore under my breath.  _ Remind me why I drank so much last night. Damn the temptations of alcohol.  _

“Hungover?” He asked snuggly, already knowing the answer. 

“Yes,” I spat out.  _ Oh, that was rude. I _ reprimanded myself. God, I was so irritable. “I’m sorry,” I turned back to him, giving my best sincere smile. I really did feel bad. 

“It’s quite alright,” he dismissed my rudeness immediately. He came up behind me, squeezing my upper arm, and started kissing my neck. I let my head roll back and closed my eyes. 

“You know I had a really good time last night,” he whispered in my ear, his voice hoarse from sleep and absolutely dripping with desire.  _ Please have self-control for once in your life Pyotr.  _ He moaned softly against my neck, I dared a glance at him. He was palming his erection, I couldn’t help but whine.  _ Maybe just a few more moments…  _

“Oh did you now?” I played at. 

“God yes,” he breathed out. I couldn’t help it; I whined. _Come on be strong._ I let out a breath trying to gather all the courage I could. 

“Look Gerard,” I started, and turned to him. He continued to caress me and looked at me inquisitively. 

“What is it?” he asked, god and he seemed genuinely concerned too. I gulped. 

“Last night I was drunk and I just…” I took another deep breath and continued. “Last night was a one-time thing,” I looked up to his eyes, they flashed with hurt. He stopped caressing my arm and moved away from me. 

“Oh yeah of course. I get it, I really do,” he offered a pained smile trying desperately to assure me. I looked away, I couldn’t bear the sight. All I saw was pain. He picked himself up off the bed and started putting his clothes back on. I just watched in silence. 

“Pyotr?” he asked hesitantly. I softly gasped and spun around to look at him.

“Yes?” I questioned.

“Close your eyes,” he demanded. I obeyed. I could feel the bed dip as he got on it. He got so close I could feel his breath, his lips ghosted mine. My heart started beating faster, I parted my lips eagerly awaiting the kiss. He pressed his lips against mine in a chaste kiss. I reveled in the feeling, it was just as good as last night. As soon as it started it was over, he pulled away and I bit back a whine. He got up off the bed again and started to walk away. He stopped right in his tracks and turned around, there was a smirk on his face. 

“Oh and Tchaikovsky, If you ever want to do that again you know where to find me,” he winked at me and continued to briskly walk away. My face heated up. I sighed.  _ Well, that’s over with.  _ I groaned a bit just realizing now how absolutely disgusting I felt. I could feel my dried come from last night, I was in desperate need of a nice bath. I missed the morning bath and I couldn’t just fill up the whole tub for myself. An idea popped into my head. I grabbed a cloth from my trunk and headed over to the bathrooms. I turned on the facet to the first sink in there and ran the water over the cloth. I shucked off my undergarments and I cringed;  _ how vile.  _ I took the cloth and started wiping off the dried come,  _ absolutely foul. _ I wrung out the water and ran it under the water once more. I continued to wipe down my thighs and abdomen, making sure I was nice and clean. Once I was satisfied I squeezed the water from the cloth and headed back to my bed and got dressed. The bell for the first-class rang as I was fixing my hair, and god did it startle me. I picked up my things and practically ran to my first class. 

As I walked into the room of my first class everyone turned to look at me and immediately started pointing and whispering to their friends.  _ They all know.  _ I blushed madly and hurried to my seat. I tried to keep my head down and ignore them. 

“Seems like you had fun last night,” someone next to me snickered, a few people around me heard this and laughed. I could feel the heat behind my cheeks, I laughed awkwardly. The teacher coughed which grabbed my attention, my eyes flicked to him. 

“Is there something wrong, Mr. Tchaikovsky?” he asked, clearly exasperated. 

“N-no sir,” I stumbled on the words and wiped my cheek, hoping to god it would somehow help my beet-red face. To my surprise class was dreadfully boring that day, I kept drifting into daydreams. No matter what I did I just couldn’t stop thinking about last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about every single detail of what happened between me and Vladimir. I desperately tried to remain calm and not let my blood rush south.  _ Good lord Pyotr, what a pervert thinking about such things during class.  _ The boy sitting next to me nudged me. I gasped and was immediately brought back from my daze. 

“Good job singing yesterday, Tchaikovsky,” he laughed wickedly. I blushed yet again. Thank god it wasn’t a comment about last night although I assumed he purposefully didn’t say anything to make more of an impact. That made no sense to me in the slightest, I tried to ignore the statement altogether. 

“Yeah thanks,” I responded awkwardly.  _ Right, that was yesterday _ I noted. My eyes widened with realization.  _ Yesterday… god it was yesterday. _ I had completely forgotten the conversation the priest and I had…. _ You are forgiven as long as you never do such a thing again.  _ His voice repeated in my head. Panic swept through my body.  _ Oh god. How could I be so stupid? I shouldn’t have gone to find Aleksey and I shouldn’t have joined that godforsaken game. How could something be so wrong but feel so incredibly good? _ My mind slipped and I started thinking about last night again. I bit my lip at the thought and fought back a moan.  _ So good... _ I shook my head trying to get rid of the thoughts.  _ God, I need a drink. _

__ “Class, if you could turn your textbook to pages 369 we can continue with the lesson,” the teacher's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I opened the textbook and raised my hand to read, maybe diving into work would distract me from my thoughts. 

I was right. It was almost the end of the last class and if it weren’t for all the murmuring about the events of last night then I wouldn’t have had another thought of it. The bell rang indicating classes were over and I jumped from my seat, intending to go to the library to get all my homework done. Work did seem to be the perfect distraction. Someone tapped my shoulder, I gasped and turned around. It was Ivan Turchaninov, he leaned in and whispered in my ear. 

“Some other boys and I are going to go have a smoke, care to join?” he asked.  _ Oh, I shouldn’t.  _ A thought occurred to me, a loophole of sorts.  _ Having a good smoke could possibly prove to be just as distracting as doing work has been.  _ I smiled. 

“Alright, I’m in!” I announced enthusiastically. He grabbed my wrist and led me to the lavatory. When we opened the door there was already a group of about ten boys standing in there. The boy with the first horn was already laying on the ground blowing the smoke into the vent that was there. They would have to light another one for everyone to have a horn and I was the last one in line; I sighed. All the boys who didn’t have the cigarette were laughing and talking about the night before. I looked away shamefully, I had absolutely no interest in the subject, I had been trying to ignore it all day.  _ Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.  _

“Oh come on Tchaikovsky don’t look like that, we all know how much fun you had with Gerard last night,” Turchaninov smirked and let out a hearty laugh, the others joined in. 

“I’m jealous of him!” one of them cried out, they all howled. Heat rose in my face.  _ God, when will this day ever end?  _

“Oh don’t look so flustered, we’re just joking,” Turchaninov slapped my arm playfully, mocking sympathy. I rolled my eyes. 

“Oh, alright,” I accepted reluctantly.  _ If they want to tease me fine, to hell with them anyway.  _ I rubbed my temples, all this yelling was giving me a headache. Christ, when will it be my horn? I looked over the group, they were lighting another cigarette. Heat started building up under my skin and caused my skin to tingle. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, my vision spun around, I pushed my arm against the wall steadying myself. God, I just couldn’t wait. my thoughts fixed on one thing and one thing only; smoking. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath trying to calm myself. 

“Woah Woah, you good there?” My eyes fluttered open, Turchaninov’s hands gripped firmly on my shoulders, holding me up. My face heated at the physical contact. He took his fingers and lifted my chin up so my eyes met his. I looked around to see if anyone else was looking. They were too preoccupied with everything else that was happening. 

“You’re everyone’s pet, Tchaikovsky, so charming and kind...” he drifted off. “That’s why everyone wants you,” he whispered in my ear. “Just remember that.” He then suddenly let go and turned to the group, joining in on the conversation they were having. My heart was beating a mile per minute and I tried to stifle my heavy breathing. I was absolutely taken aback.  _ How could a simple touch cause such feelings to rise within me?  _ I pushed the feeling aside and looked to the group. It was almost my horn,  _ thank god.  _ I stood there leaning against the wall watching Turchaninov take a drag from the cigarette; and although I was just about to go I felt incredibly envious. He took one last drag, blew out the smoke, and turned to me winking. 

“Your turn,” he said with a devious smirk and handed me the cigarette. I snatched it from his nimble fingers and went to lay down next to the vent. I inhaled and blew the smoke into the vent next to me. I sighed happily, finally being able to wind down after being on edge all day.  _ Ah, this is exactly what I needed.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who helped edit this I owe y'all a lot! Constructive criticism is always welcome and if anyone has any questions about the fic or even Tchaikovsky you can always leave a comment or message me on my Tumblr @p-tchaikovsky!  
> Disclaimer: Although most of what I write is fiction and made up there are some events that have actually taken place in Tchaikovsky's life. A lot of research goes into my writing and although I try to remain as accurate as possible I sometimes slip up
> 
> Link to Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MKonHP8gdk 
> 
> more information on Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend:http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/My_Genius,_My_Angel,_My_Friend


	9. No, I Shall Never Tell: No.1 of Six Romances Op. 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For each chapter title, I will choose a different Tchaikovsky song or duet and this one just so happens to be No, I Shall Never Tell from Tchaikovsky's Six Romances Op. 28. I chose this piece because, in the beginning, the running quarter and eighth notes emulate Tchaikovsky's nerves at the beginning of the chapter. It is also like the playful interactions Tchaikovsky has with Aleksey when they are in the dormitories and in class. When the tenor starts singing it is all very sweet and charming which just makes my heart melt and immediately think of Tchaikovsky's love for Sergey Kireyev. Towards the end of the spice when the singer hits those high notes it is much like the sublime, triumphant, and overwhelming emotions that Tchaikovsky has in reaction to what Sergey says about his confession of sorts( no not a love confession... this is why I hate slow burn fics HAHA)  
> I was very happy when I realized this would be the perfect piece for this chapter because this is my favorite song of all time!
> 
> Side note: This is the last chapter that I can post that's the same as before the rewrite. A lot of things are different but there are still lots of chapters that are the same as well! The next chapter is entirely new though so I'm gonna wait till I'm done with a few more chapters and then I'll post. That might be this friday or next Friday, we'll see. Originally I had 32 chapters completely written out so I kind of want to get to that point before I start getting back to my regular every Friday update
> 
> Here's more information about No, I Shall Never Tell and the Six Romances Op 28:  
> http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/Six_Romances,_Op._28 
> 
> and here's a link to the piece:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oqRBEKoRgSE

“I’m trying to figure out a way to get into the junior dormitories,” I casually brought up one night while Aleksey and I were doing homework. He immediately looked up from what he was doing, looking absolutely astonished. _ Haha, I was worried that this might happen. I was hoping that if I casually brought it up then it wouldn’t have much of an impact, apparently, I was wrong.  _

“What?! Are you out of your mind?” his eyes bugged out a bit, and I couldn't help but snicker under my breath. He slapped my arm playfully and tried to stifle a guffaw. “Come on this is serious! You could get in a lot of trouble if you’re caught you know!”

“I know, I know,” I looked up at him, trying to get my desperation across. “But I need to see him.” How could I ever begin to explain the depth of my affection for this boy in just a few words and a longing glance? I admit my thoughts have been consumed by my own guilt and the events of just a few weeks ago with Vladimir Gerard. But once all the commotion had faded away, I discovered that my love had not disappeared one bit. No, it definitely had not. I longed to see him and to hear his voice. It seemed so incredibly blissful that I would give ten years of my life just to have him appear for a mere second. As hard as it was for me to admit, I had started writing his initials in the margins of my notes as I daydreamed of him in class. 

“Pyotr!?” I startled out of my thoughts at his harsh voice, and my eyes fluttered open. 

“I’m sorry, I suppose I drifted off into a daydream. What were you saying?” I questioned, trying desperately to figure out what we were talking about beforehand. 

“What is your plan?” he asked, leaning in and eagerly awaiting my answer. 

“What plan?” God, I was dumbfounded. 

“How are you going to get in there... The junior dormitories?” 

“Oh right, well I was planning on going during study time tomorrow,” I announced nonchalantly. 

“How studious of you,” he teased. 

“Oh, shut it!” I rolled my eyes and whacked his arm with my papers. He giggled and looked back down to his work, only to scratch idly at the paper. He bit at one of his fingernails and mumbled something I couldn’t quite understand. 

“What?”

“Be careful,” he glanced up at me quickly, meeting my gaze, then immediately looked away. I rolled my eyes again, bit my lip, and grinned a little. Warmth spread in my heart, he was always worried for me. 

“You know I always am Lyolya,” I kissed his cheek and went back to my work as well. 

That night, I went to bed with nervous energy for the following day which made sleep practically impossible. Despite that, I ended up falling asleep from sheer exhaustion and woke up with the same buzzing nerves from the night before. I couldn’t stay still the whole day, and it was proving to be quite bothersome to Aleksey who was shooting me profoundly exasperated glances. It seems like he snapped and leaned in and whispered harshly in my ear. 

“For god’s sake, Pyotr calm down!” 

“You know I can’t!” I countered. He frowned and went back to his work. I tore my gaze away from his and started tapping my pen on the desk in the same rhythm that my leg had been bouncing. God, why am I so restless. I achingly wished I could go to the music room and sit at the piano, injecting my nerves into the keys. But alas I was stuck in this dreary old classroom. After a few minutes, Aleksey muttered under his breath,

“Oh for god’s sake!” he spoke the same words yet again and snatched the pen out of my hand. 

“Hey, what was that for? I need that!” I barked incredulously, trying to hold back laughter. He rolled his eyes and held the pen out for me. As I went to grab it back, he pulled it away from me and chuckled. “Come on give it back!” I whined, frowning when he just continued to laugh. 

“You swear you won’t keep up that incessant tapping?”

“I swear!” I promised. He looked skeptical but nonetheless hesitantly handed it over. The rest of the class went over smoothly but my god it was almost impossible to not fidget. 

“Do you need me to go with you?” Aleksey asked as we were walking out of the classroom. 

“No, it’s alright! Thank you though,” I bit my lip, and hesitantly kissed his cheek. 

“Alright then. I’ll see you later,” he smiled and headed off in the other direction. On my way over to the junior hall, I spotted Sergey Kireyev leaving the library. 

“Kireyev, Hi!” I waved and rushed over to him. His cheeks turned a bright red as everyone turned to look at him, I snickered a bit and mouthed, “Sorry!” He bit his lip and started walking towards me. 

“Hello Tchaikovsky, how are you?” he asked politely. 

“I’m quite lovely, thank you for asking! How are you?” and the only reason I was in such a good mood was because of him, it was always him. 

“Just as well as you’d expect someone to be after studying for hours,” he huffed out a sad laugh.  _ Poor boy. _

“Oh, what are you studying for?” I asked, trying to remember the things I learned as a junior.

“I have a lot of upcoming tests,” he answered mindlessly.  _ Not helpful but I’ll take it! _

“Ah well, good luck, I’m sure you’ll do great!” I exclaimed enthusiastically. 

“I would like to assume so, I am studying after all,” he rolled his eyes.

“Yes, you are right!” I laughed uncomfortably, and an awkward silence filled the space between us. Kireyev cleared his throat and looked away.

“Well I better be going, I need to head back to the dormitories.” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking vaguely embarrassed. 

“Let me walk you back!” I said a bit too hastily and he immediately turned around, looking surprised beyond measure. I cringed inside. I offered a small smile, hoping it would fix the damage. 

“It’s ok you really don’t have to!”

“Please it would be my pleasure! It’s no trouble at all!” I passionately tried to convince him.

“Alright if you insist,” he gave in hesitantly.  _ God, thank you, you beautiful creature! _

“Would you like me to carry some of your books?” I questioned. He looked taken aback yet again, his eyes darted away and then he looked up at me, his cheeks turning pink once more. 

“Yes, thank you,” 

“You’re welcome!” I held my arms out and he slid a few books into them. God, they were so much heavier than I imagined. I laughed and commented, “Lord, these are heavy!”

“I know, there’s so much material in them I can hardly absorb it all!” he exclaimed. 

“Ah yes a lot of the material is quite difficult isn’t it?”

“God yes! I love learning, don't get me wrong but on occasion, I just want to pull my hair out. I'm so frustrated!” 

“I completely understand! The thing that always gets me are the tests, I’m a horrible test taker,”

“Really? Why’s that?” he asked. 

“I just get so anxious that I’ll do bad and I end up worrying so much that I either forget everything or I just run out of time.”

“Wow, that’s never happened to me before! The workload is really what I’m really struggling with,” he sighed, suddenly looking drained. 

“It’s a lot isn’t it?” I bit my lip and felt a bit sorry for the boy, remembering how much work it really is. 

“God it really is, I am just so excited to be done with school!” 

“Haha you are only in your first years here, you have so much to go!” It was a bit unexpected that he would say such a thing this early into his education. 

“I know I know, it just seems so far off and I want it to come as soon as possible!” he explained, looking on edge. 

“It will trust me. I feel as if I’ve blinked and all this time has gone by.”

“Dear God, I hope you’re right.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll definitely fly by! And I know it’s a lot but you’re a smart kid I’m sure you’ll get through,” I smiled at him trying to desperately quell my overwhelming affection for the boy. 

“I don’t think I’m very smart but I do study hard.”

“Oh don’t be so self-deprecating, you have so much potential!” 

“Do you really think so?”

“Oh of course I do.” I bit my lip as his beaming face looked up at me. Oh how I wanted to kiss his little hands in that moment, _ he’s so precious _ . My heart ached, oh how I want him, to hold him, and to caress his baby soft skin. God, no matter how badly I wanted it, I would never dare for a kiss. I looked at him, memorizing each curve of his face no matter how slight, my eyes swimming in the pools of his dutch chocolate eyes. I took the opportunity to drink in his absolutely intoxicating scent, I shivered violently and tore my gaze from his face, it was just all too much. Sergey coughed a bit. 

“Are you alright?” he asked tentatively. 

“Yes, fine…” I looked back to him.  _ Fuck.  _ “Anyway we’re here aren't we?”

“Yes,” he said blankly. “Thank you for walking me here, you really didn’t have to,”

“I know.”

“Well I best be going,” he turned around and opened the huge mahogany door. Even though I felt as if I couldn’t bear another second with him, I was frantic for his time and company. I never have any clue when I ever get to see the boy, and I wanted to stretch this time out as much as possible. 

“Wait!” I called out to him. He whipped around. “Can I come in?”

“Oh I don’t know Tchaikovsky,” he said looking conflicted.

“Please,” I begged. 

“Alright, come in, come in,” he caved. I was forever grateful for him,  _ how gracious and kind _ . How I would worship him and lie down prostrated before him if he would allow it. He stood aside and gestured for me to go inside. 

“After you.” 

_ How charming.  _ I bit my lip and blushed like mad, I felt like a schoolgirl so hopelessly in love with a boy she’d never have.  _ I practically am.  _

“Thank you,” I shuffled inside and he closed the door behind us. “Wow, I haven’t been here in what feels like forever.” 

“I would imagine so, you are a senior after all.”

“That I am,” I looked down at the younger boy walking beside me. “You are very eager to graduate, I see. What do you want to do when you finally get out?” he looked up at me with the most peculiar look, I almost couldn’t help but laugh. 

“What do you mean? What does one come here for? To become a civil servant or something of the sort,” he looks at me like I’ve gone completely mad. 

“Ah you’re right,” I muttered. A thought occurred to me and I looked over to him again and he was staring straight forward. 

“I’ve a confession to make.” 

“Go ahead.” 

I took a deep breath in through my nose and let the air fill up my lungs until I could no longer hold anymore, and blew it out harshly. God, I was nervous. If he didn’t already think I was mad enough then, he would definitely think I am now. I was frightened about how his view of me would change with this information 

“Despite my plans my father has for me, I do not wish to become a civil servant,” I started and his rich dark eyes bored into mine, attentively listening. “I reckon one day I will be a famous composer,” I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing myself for the inevitable laughter and humiliation. But it did not come. 

“I have no doubt of it. I do not know much about you but I heard your voice the other day. You were brilliant. I’m sure you will be a very fine composer indeed.” My eyes widened and I drew in a soft breath. The whole world seemed to stop and oh god I could never fully express the love I felt for the boy in that very moment. The sweet words which spilled from his lips were music to my ears, even more, precious than music itself. 

“Sergey…” I whispered breathlessly. He gasped and looked taken aback “you have no idea what that means to me, I am so touched.” 

“Oh you’re welcome,” he rubbed at the back of his neck, clearly not knowing what to say. Tears welled in my eyes and I turned away, I didn’t want him to see me like this. 

“Tchaikovsky, are you ok??” he asked, distressed. I could hear the concern in his voice and it just increased my joy. I choked on a sob. 

“Yes,” I choked out, tears steadily flowing. He turned me around and exclaimed. 

“You’re crying!” 

“I’m happy. They’re happy tears.” I whispered, and then the unexpected happened. He took his thumb and wiped my tears away, gently caressing my chapped cheeks. 

“God, you’re useless,” the mirth shining in his eyes. 

“I really am,” letting out a breathy laugh. He smiled at me and I swear just for a second, I could see some sort of admiration sparkling in his eyes. 

“At least you’re happy” he murmured; and he was right, I was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who helped edit this I owe y'all a lot! Constructive criticism is always welcome and if anyone has any questions about the fic or even Tchaikovsky you can always leave a comment or message me on my Tumblr @p-tchaikovsky!  
> Disclaimer: Although most of what I write is fiction and made up there are some events that have actually taken place in Tchaikovsky's life. A lot of research goes into my writing and although I try to remain as accurate as possible I sometimes slip up
> 
> Link to Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MKonHP8gdk 
> 
> more information on Tchaikovsky's My Genius, My Angel, My Friend:http://en.tchaikovsky-research.net/pages/My_Genius,_My_Angel,_My_Friend


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